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Ariadne is in the garden doing stretching drills while her boyfriend Demetrios moves his supple body through a series of complex dance moves, eyes closed as he dances to a rhythm that only he can hear. Tyche, the flute player, is silently fingering the notes – she will play later, but for now the troupe do not want to disturb the diners at their meal.
Their manager, known to everyone – and by now probably also to himself – as ‘the Syracusan’, sticks his head out of the door. ‘They’re taking away the tables. Get ready.’
Ariadne and her companions are the entertainment at tonight’s symposium. It’s a high-class affair and correspondingly well-paid. The Syracusan has given them a brief run-down on those present. Their host is Callias, one of the most powerful politicians in Athens. There’s a trophy-winning athlete called Autolycus, a philosopher called Socrates, Nicoratus, son of Nicias the politician, and a minor aristocrat called Agathon who is accompanied by two friends. There are also three hetarias, one of whom has already called for stronger wine.
The flute girl makes a face when she hears the number of hetarias present. Unless two men pair up they’ll be a girl short if – as very often happens – the proceedings degenerate into a full-scale orgy. The flute girl will be expected to make up the numbers, and even with a generous gratuity afterwards, it’s not her ideal end to the evening. She considers herself a musician (a very good one), not a courtesan.
‘Don’t worry,’ the Syracusan assures her. ‘The hetarias generally know to stay reasonably sober and at least one of the men will pass out, so that will shorten the odds. Now get ready – they’ve started the hymn.’ (Symposium diners customarily start the second part of their evening with a libation and a hymn to the gods. Then the serious drinking begins. ‘Symposium’, after all, literally translates as ‘drinking together’.)
As the hymn ends, the three troop into the andron, the men’s room of the house, where the manager introduces them. ‘First, our flute girl, perfect in her playing. Next, a skilled dancing girl, wonderfully excellent in her art. And here in the bloom of his youthful beauty, a boy who dances with matchless grace.’
Tyche is passing Ariadne the hoops which she will be juggling, when there is a thunderous knocking on the street door. Frowning, Callias sends servants to investigate. ‘If they are friends, invite them in; otherwise, say that the symposium has finished.’
Moments later a drunken voice bellows from the courtyard, ‘Where is Agathon? Take me to Agathon!’ and at length Alcibiades staggers in, supported between two servants.
‘Greetings, friends,’ he says from the doorway. ‘Will you have a very drunken man join you at the party? Or shall I give this garland to Agathon, which was why I came here, and be on my way? Let me take this garland from my own head and crown this fairest and wisest of men.
‘Are you laughing at me because I am drunk? Yes, laugh, but I know that I am speaking the truth. But first tell me; do we have an understanding? Will you drink with me or not?’
With everyone urging him in, Alcibiades effortlessly takes over the proceedings. ‘You are far too sober, my friends. Completely unacceptable. The agreement under which I was allowed in was that we get drinking together. I elect myself master of the feast until you are all well drunk.
‘Give me a large wine cup. No, you servant, bring me that wine cooler.’ The wine cooler is a vase usually holding chilled water to cool and dilute the wine of the guests. Filled with wine, it makes a substantial drink. Alcibiades drains it without pausing.
Swaying markedly, he orders the servant, ‘Fill it again for Socrates. Though you will observe, my friends, that this clever trick is wasted on him. He will soak up the lot and get no nearer to being drunk.’
Without comment, Socrates also drains the vase.
Finally, Ariadne can begin her act. Tyche plays with an exaggerated rhythm to help Ariadne keep time. The men – veteran soldiers all – recognize it as a well-known marching song and lustily supply the words. Demetrios passes three more hoops to join the six that Ariadne is juggling, casting them almost as high as the rafters. For that extra bit of showmanship, she dances below the hoops as she catches and casts, keeping perfect time.
The delighted spectators roar their approval, but Ariadne is so absorbed in concentration she hardly notices. She throws one hoop that little bit higher and without looking catches the extra hoop that Demetrios throws to her. Ten hoops, and the applause picks up. Higher … higher … till the hoops graze the ceiling. Still dancing, Ariadne nods twice – signalling Demetrios that she can do two more.
THE MUSICIAN’S ELEGANT DRESS AND HARP SUGGEST SHE HAS LANDED A HIGH-PAYING GIG
Beat, catch, throw. Catch the final hoop, throw, step, throw – there’s twelve hoops on the go now, and Ariadne’s timing is getting ragged. So as the hoops come down she flicks them aside to Demetrios who stacks each arrival on the table beside him. Now Tyche takes her timing from Ariadne and wraps up her tune just as the last hoop is placed on the table. Panting slightly, Ariadne takes a bow.
Socrates leads the applause, gently moving the head of a slumbering Alcibiades from the crook of his arm in order to do so. He remarks, ‘Gentlemen, this girl shows by her performance that a woman’s nature is every bit equal to a man’s. And this is but one further proof among many. All a girl lacks is strength and (being younger) judgement. Those of you who have wives should be encouraged to teach them what you can, so they may be true partners.’
One of the drinkers makes the obvious rejoinder. ‘If that’s your opinion, Socrates, why not tutor your own wife? It seems you let your Yellow Horse remain as wild and savage as any wife and, indeed I imagine, as any wife that will ever be.’
‘Well,’ replies Socrates, ‘I shall follow your metaphor. The rider who wishes to become an expert horseman says, “I want no docile animal, broken to the bridle. My horse needs to be a creature with spirit.” He feels that if he can manage such an animal then every other horse will be child’s play.
‘In my case, I wish to be among people, and I teach human beings. And so I choose to live with a high-spirited wife, since if I can get along with her I can certainly get along with the rest of humanity.’
While this exchange is going on, a large hoop is brought out and presented with a flourish. The hoop is almost the height of Ariadne, lined with sword blades that point inwards, leaving a small gap in the middle. Demetrios holds one side of the hoop, the Syracusan another, and Tyche picks up the pace on her flute.
Before the audience can fully grasp the point of all this, Ariadne launches herself through the ring of swords, landing in a forward roll. She pulls off her tunic, revealing a very short skirt and tightly bound breasts. Then she somersaults through the ring, feeling one of the sword points lightly graze her ankle. On landing she glances down and checks her feet are set exactly right, then does a backflip, bringing up her feet as soon as she is through the hoop, so that she lands on her hands. After a tense moment, she pushes down, and flips herself to her feet through the hoop.
Ariadne quickly repeats this thrice, until the fearful spectators beg her to stop. Then, coolly and without mishap, she performs a series of forward and backward somersaults through the ring, completing her performance to an awed silence that is even better than applause.
‘Okay,’ says Socrates eventually, ‘now that you have seen a girl – hardly yet a woman – launch herself so boldly among those swords, can you ever again deny that courage comes from training; that it can be taught?’
‘Indeed not,’ someone replies feelingly. ‘No, our friend the Syracusan should tell the Athenian authorities that – for a substantial price – he is prepared to give the whole Athenian people courage to face enemy spears at close range. That dancing girl is proof he can do it.’
It’s time for Ariadne to take a break, so she retires to wash while Demetrios entertains with his sinuous dances, weaving bonelessly as a snake while Tyche plays a haunting tune on her flute. Bathed and re-dressed, Ariadne relaxes to the music.
She is roused by the sound of laughter. Pleasure, surprise and even lust – she is used to such feelings being expressed when Demetrios dances. But mirth? She peeks out and discovers that Demetrios is taking a break. Instead, Socrates is twisting erotically on the floor, beard waggling in counter-time to his wobbling paunch. Tyche is trying to keep a tune, but keeps breaking into unprofessional fits of giggles.
‘What?’ Socrates reproves the room, his expression serious. ‘It pleases you all to laugh. Is it funny that I want to improve my health by exercise, and so eat and sleep better? I don’t want to be a runner, with bulging legs and skinny shoulders, nor a boxer who builds his shoulders at the expense of his legs. Dancing distributes the exercise across the body, allowing for even development.’
He gives a twirl.
‘Or is it funny that in future I shall need no wrestling partner at the gymnasium? Indeed, I’ll no longer have to strip my old body in public. I shall exercise indoors in winter, and in the shade during the summer heat. And yet you laugh. Is it at my desire to slim down this somewhat over-developed belly? Is that the reason?’
He turns to the Syracusan. ‘Breathtaking as it is, throwing somersaults around sword points is a display of danger not entirely suited to the present mood of the party. Can you persuade your young people to perhaps assay some pantomime in dance? I think they themselves might enjoy that, and in the process lend our festivity the grace and charm I have apparently failed to supply.’
‘Excellent idea!’ exclaims the Syracusan. ‘Just give me a moment.’ He rushes to the back room where Tyche, Demetrios and Ariadne are already in an excited huddle. It takes only a few moments to come up with a theme inspired by Ariadne’s namesake, Ariadne of Crete, the daughter of King Minos.
As everyone in the audience knows, this Ariadne was instrumental in helping Theseus slay the Minotaur by giving him the golden thread that guided him through the labyrinth. Thereafter, Theseus and Ariadne eloped from Crete, only for the faithless Theseus to abandon his lover on the island of Naxos. Yet Ariadne had the last laugh, for the desolate maiden was seen by the god Dionysus, who took her for his bride.
The dance will enact the moment after the wedding when Dionysus, having ushered out the last guests, comes to claim his bride.
The audience watches intently as Ariadne seats herself on a makeshift throne while Tyche strikes up a Bacchic revel. Ariadne remains seated, but her anticipation is clear.
Demetrios dances lightly to her, tenderly embracing, and with feigned bashfulness Ariadne wraps her arms around him, both swaying to the time of the music. Demetrios lifts her to her feet and the pair dance, sometimes in a close embrace, sometimes springing balletically free.
Demetrios and Ariadne are perfectly paired: young, athletic and beautiful. As the dance goes on, it slowly dawns on the audience that the passion is not faked – actually the two have forgotten the spectators and are dancing for themselves alone. This is no pantomime but two young people doing what they have long set their hearts upon.
‘Do you love me?’ whispers Demetrios as he bends Ariadne back in an embrace.
‘I do,’ she assures him earnestly.
The Symposium
This final hour of the symposium is a collaborative effort by Plato, Xenophon and myself. The major contributor is Xenophon, and the classicist will recognize most of his Symposium Book IX with the philosophical badinage removed. Ariadne’s sword dancing, the less elegant endeavours of Socrates and the final dance of Ariadne and Demetrios are as described by Xenophon.
Plato’s contribution is the arrival of Alcibiades, fresh, as I imagine, from his escapade in the alleyway. Alcibiades spends the rest of Plato’s symposium being his usual obnoxious self, so I have quietly stunned him and given the floor to Socrates and Ariadne. My own contribution has been to add continuity, edit and translate. After all, when you have actual eyewitness reports there is little else to add.
Catching her in his arms, Demetrios expertly whirls her to the back room where a friendly chair awaits. They are unaware that the midnight hour has just passed, just as they are unheeding of the guests at the dinner party, whom they leave to start the coming day in whatever manner they please.
